A Pyro Story

He admired their tenacity. They were all down there, planning an attack on the newly recaptured Foundry. Again. They were gathered around the table, pointing at a map, drawing lines and suggesting ideas. All nine of them.

Their Spy had gathered the intelligence. Stolen it from under the noses of his own team. He’d seemed to have recovered well from being shot in the face by his team mates. Pyro knew though that deep down, the silly little Frenchman was bitter. And why shouldn’t he be bitter? After all, he was ever so cruelly tricked.

The information had been pieced together and decrypted by their Engineer. He’d watched as the mechanic worked late into the night, jotting down notes. He’d had help from their Sniper, who had periodically brought down cups of coffee.

Once everything had been translated, he watched as their… heavier team mates argued over various plans, all to the tutting of a slightly annoyed Medic, who seemed almost sick of his cohorts, and would often wander off to feed his ravens. This confused him, since his own Medic, a much friendlier person (although possibly far crazier) preferred the kindness of doves.

But it was a simple suggestion from their Scout which had caused their plan to become a threat. That was why he was there…

“So, we’re all agreed on our plan of action?” The fools had finally settled down. They had worked out their plan. They were ready.

“Ladies! Today will be our day of GLORY!” their Soldier laughed, holding his precious shovel. “We will finally beat theĀ snotĀ out of those maggots!”

“Indeed.” Their Spy actually smiled. “If we pull this off, it will be a huge victory for BLU.”

“You got that right!” Their Demoman was celebrating already, while their Heavy simply grinned, cleaning his gun while everyone calmed down again. What fools.

Their joy though was interrupted. Voices from outside. Familiar voices. At once, the entire team turned to face the large, metal door. Their Sniper was the first to fire, a bullet slicing right through the thin sheet.

Now was the time…

“What on earth was that?” the BLU Scout asked as someone shouted from behind the metal door.

“I think I hit something…” the Sniper’s lips twisted into a small smile. “Sounded like our old friends, RED…”

The Medic darted off to get his medi gun as the Soldier slowly raised his rocket launcher. The voices outside had stopped. To be on the safe side, the Demoman placed several sticky bombs by the door, then burped loudly.

The Heavy was about to spin up his minigun, but paused as he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Da, Doktor?”


The axe went straight through the BLU Heavy’s head as his body fell to the floor, blood trickling out like a dying river. Pyro grinned underneath his mask, pulling out his trusty flame thrower.

“GET HIM!” the BLU Spy ordered, fading from view. The Scout rushed forward, bat in hand, but could do nothing but scream as his flesh sizzled away. Pyro’s axe cut deep into the burning Scout’s neck, separating it from his body.

The Sniper was next. The dead Scout’s head had thrown him off balance, giving Pyro plenty of time to leap over and knock his rifle out of the way. The Sniper had no chance of reaching his kukri, and before he could scream in agony from the flames, his back was full of shotgun pellets.

The BLU Soldier bellowed some sort of stupid war cry at the top of his lungs, then fired his entire clip at Pyro. It was simply a matter of reflecting the rockets away with his newly rebuilt airblast. The rockets glistened in the light from the flames as they bounced back, sending pieces of metal and chunks of enemy Engineer across the room. The Soldier had no time to react as a fourth rocket exploded by his feet, sending him straight into the inferno of Pyro’s flame thrower.

The Demoman growled and fired one of his sticky bombs at the Pyro’s feet, but he simply blasted it out of existence. Pyro laughed and charged forward, pushing the Demoman back towards the metal door. A simple flash, and all that was left was a large splatter of blood and a burnt, twisted, severed arm. He’d forgotten about those stickies, hadn’t he?

Pyro skidded to a halt and did a quick body count. Where was that Spy?

A sharp pain in his arm reminded him.

“Right behind you…” the Spy taunted as his knife dug deep into Pyro’s arm. A knife wasn’t going to stop him though. Pyro spun around and threw the Spy backwards, but the sneaky fool cloaked before hitting the ground. There was nothing for it. He had to set the whole room on fire.

So that was what he did. The Spy’s cloak became meaningless as the flames leaped up his body, searing the flesh from his bones.

Pyro sighed, then looked around for an exit. By the door way from which he had entered the room stood a lone Medic. The BLU Medic was holding his syringe gun, but Pyro could tell, the fool was terrified. He laughed evilly as he stepped over the burning bodies of the Medic’s team mates, holding his flame thrower in one hand, his bloodied axe in the other.

“D-Dont… Or I… I will…” the Medic stuttered.

“Mmmmph mmmph?” Pyro grinned. To the Medic’s surprise, he dropped his axe. Each step he took, the Medic took one step back. Then he dropped his flame thrower and reached for his mask, slowly pulling it off.

“W-What a-are you… D-doing?…” the poor Medic was shaking so violently, he could barely hold his weapon. “No… NO! NOOOO! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

Pyro laughed heartily as the Medic ran off, screaming like a lunatic. He then put his mask back on, then opened the large, metal door, where his team was waiting outside.


Also known as Doctor Retvik Von Schreibtviel, Medic writes 50% of all the articles on the Daily SPUF. A dedicated Medic main in Team Fortress 2 and an avid speedster in Warframe, Medic has the unique skill of writing 500 words about very little in a very short space of time.

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